Department 13
by Celestia Craven Genesis
Summary: Summer after Fifth Year: In the bowels of the Ministry, the secret Department 13 recruits Harry Potter. Becoming a government agent, Harry trains in preparation for his inevitable final showdown with Voldemort. Though Harry leaves his friends behind for the summer, he finds himself looking on extremely familiar faces.
1. First Contact

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Harry Potter_. The idea _Department 13_, however, is all mine.

**Published**: Tuesday, June 25, 2013

**Notes**: For the first time in personal fanfiction history, I have actually fully outlined a fanfiction BEFORE writing it. Huzzah. Anyway, also different from usual is that I'm planning to publish all my chapters in PAIRS. I have a personal goal to publish two chapters of this every other week on Tuesday, which I believe myself fully capable of if I try. But, well, we'll see. So, anyway, I'll be publishing chapter two later today. It's already written; I just have to finished editing it. I'm only doing light editing on this fanfiction, because I'm concentrating more on finishing it all first. This is a fifth-year summer fanfiction, which is pretty obvious with all the references to Sirius' death and the DoM. The sequel will actually take place during the Hogwarts school year, though.

* * *

**Chapter One**

First Contact

* * *

A white-haired woman sat at her desk in her office, reviewing the documents on the surface in front of her one last time. Then, she stacked up all the documents save one and placed them in her desk drawer, locking the drawer with a key from her pocket.

The woman picked up a quill from its holder and dipped it into a glass inkpot. With swirling strokes, she began to write. She chose her words with care, but with excitement. She kept her opinions short and to the point, though she could have written pages on all the thoughts she had on this particular subject.

A while later, suffering from an aching neck, the woman's scratches on the parchment were silenced. She paused, before leaning back and folding her hands together with a calculating gleam in her eyes.

Potential Recruitment Viability

April 17

**Codename**: Bolt

**Gender**: Male

**Birthdate**: Classified

Bolt, in reference to his abilities in Defense Against the Dark Arts, was already a potential recruit for the past few years. However, after the DoM Fiasco (refer to File 1848), I must reevaluate my former negative position on his recruitment. Bolt showed the unpolished beginnings of compelling leadership and quick thinking, able to preserve the lives of his fellow allies though he was wildly outnumbered and outmatched. Though he did reveal many foolish choices during the Fiasco as well as wise ones, it is my belief that with proper training Bolt will be able to push aside his primary amateur mistakes and become a fine squad leader. I also believe that our department is the only one properly qualified to instruct him, as the Auror Corps of the Department of Law Enforcement –– while excellent in their own right –– are a reactive group while our Department is an active one. Bolt already possesses the inspiration to get things done, to prevent an incident like the DoM Fiasco from occurring again. With a group such as the Auror Corps, Bolt would only feel held back and discontent. On the other hand, I must insist that in our Department, Bolt would reach his full potential and become confident in his work's necessity for the good of the Wizarding World. After the arrangements of Sirius Black (see File 1858), we are now free to recruit him as previously proposed.

**Viability Research Agent**: Yeti

~ oOo ~

Harry Potter entered the Great Hall early in the morning with a yawn splitting his face, tired but unable to sleep on account of nightmares of Sirius' death. A dark shadow passed over his face at remembering the incident once again.

He dropped harshly onto the Gryfindor table's bench, stomach queasy at the thought of food. However, he knew that both Ron and Hermione would become concerned if he did not eat. So, Harry reached out and pulled a few muffins toward him, nibbling on them as his mind wandered away.

His chain of thought was interrupted as an owl dropped in front of him with a self-important ruffle of feathers. Harry sighed and pushed his plate to the side, already recognizing the Ministry insignia on the red wax seal.

Harry reached out and studied the letter for a moment, before using his butter knife to slit open the letter.

_Mister Harry J. Potter,_ it read.

_On account of the death of escaped convict Sirius Black, we must inform you as to the legal changes in your guardianship. You are invited to come to the Ministry on April the 22__nd__ to speak with a Ministry legal advisor. As official Ministry business, you have been excused from attendance from your school, Hogwarts, for the whole of that day._

_~ Julia H. Curlique,_

_The Department of Legal Affairs_

Harry's face darkened considerably. It was bad enough that Sirius was dead –– gone. Now, apparently, Sirius' death had something to do with his guardianship with the Dursleys. Two of his least favorite subjects, to be discussed with his least favorite government. Oh, joy.

Harry was tempted, for a moment, to write back and tell Miss Julia H. Curlique that, no, he was _not_ able to come on April the 22nd, as he was still recovering from the horrors of fighting Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries, which could have been prevented if only Harry had been able to call someone for help. Unfortunately, because the Minister had been a complete imbecile who was publicly slandering him, he had been unable to call for help and had to take care of everything himself.

Then again, it might be more refreshing to say that in person.

Truth be told, though, Harry just didn't have the energy to rant at some deserving figure. A few weeks ago, when he was still upset at Fudge, Umbridge, Snape and Dumbledore, Harry would have happily taken up the offer, but now Harry only felt numb. Harry's parents had died when he was a baby, leaving him alone with the Dursleys, who hated him. Sirius had been the closest thing that Harry had been able to have of a family, and now he was dead.

He wasn't even angry, like he had been in Dumbledore's office. Harry was just sad.

Harry folded up the letter and tucked it back in the envelope. He stood up from the breakfast table and walked away, once again lost in his mind.

Harry sat down in the Common Room next to Hermione, who peered at the note in his hand with interest. Her bandaged arm reached out to point at the Ministry letter.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

Harry peered down at the letter in surprise. He had completely forgotten about it, though he'd been walking around the lake with it in his hand for the past hour or so. "A letter from the Ministry," he replied.

Hermione's face scrunched into righteous indignation. "Oooh!" she growled with her hands fisted into her skirt. "Why can't they just leave you alone, Harry?"

"I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Can't-Get-a-Break, Hermione," Harry joked half heartedly. "They'll never leave me alone."

"Well, what do they want _now_?" Hermione asked.

Harry sighed deeply. "They want to talk to me about Sirius' death. Apparently, something about my guardians . . . Do you think I'll finally be able to leave the Dursleys?" he wondered. "Probably not."

"Maybe," Hermione said, "but the Dursleys' house is the safest place for you during. Well, unless you can convince Headmaster Dumbledore to keep you at Hogwarts during the summer instead."

"No," Harry said. "I don't think he will. Not so long as I haven't mastered Occlumency."

"Then why don't you stay away?" Hermione said. "They don't have the ability to summon you by law –– this is just a legal advisement. In the Wizarding World, you don't _have_ to actually meet with legal advisors. They usually explain chances in circumstances that might affect a wizard, but since you're returning to the Dursleys' anyways, you shouldn't have to go!"

"We'll see," Harry murmured. He didn't really have an opinion either way. Still, he would rather go and waste his time than stay and miss something important. Harry stood up. "I'll talk to you later, Hermione," he said. "And feel better."

Hermione grimaced, eyeing her bandaged arm. "I'll be fine," she said.

Harry walked away with a frown. If he had been more careful, Hermione wouldn't have gotten hurt at all. If Dumbledore had prepared him for the tasks ahead . . . .

Harry shook his head of the depressing thoughts. Sirius was dead, and no manner of could-have-beens would bring him back. Harry could only make sure that such a thing would never happen again.

_How am I to do that, though?_

Harry had only an average fifth year education, however naturally Defense came to him. Harry knew that he had the potential to be better at Defense –– perhaps he could ask McGonagal or Dumbledore to allow him to take Seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts in his Sixth year. Now, the question is, which one would be more likely to agree?

And still, it's not as if Seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts is enough to defeat Voldemort, or any adult could do it! No, the "power he knows not" spoken of in the Prophecy is definitely not Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Maybe Auror training instead? Harry didn't think that the Aurors were likely to defeat Voldemort on their own, but they would be a whole lot closer than teenagers. Only, he would have to wait until after Seventh Year, and he would have to keep his grades up too! "Oh, Voldemort, could you please not attack Hogwarts until I graduate? Last time you tried something, I failed History of Magic." Yeah, because that would go so well.

Perhaps, like with seventh year Defense, he could somehow persuade the adults to let him take Auror training early? Harry didn't think Dumbledore or the Ministry would really go for that.

_Arg! What am I to do?!_

Yet again lost in thought, Harry let his feet carry him to the owlry, where he called for Hedwig and sat down in a shadowy corner on the wooden floor, hoping not to be disturbed. He absently petted his affectionate familiar as he ran his ideas through his head.

Maybe he could ask Remus for help? Or, if the Aurors wouldn't train him, he'd ask Mad-Eye for help?

Harry screwed up his face. There was still a problem. How would they get into Hogwarts? Voldemort and his spies couldn't be allowed to realize that Harry was training or there would be absolutely no point. Well, unless Harry miraculously turned out to be even better at Defense than he thought he was.

Besides, even if members of the Order of the Phoenix could be smuggled into Hogwarts, Harry was already kept busy by his schoolwork. He would already have to permanently drop quittitch.

And even _if_ all of that _could_ be done, would Dumbledore give his permission, would those people have the spare time, and were any of them good enough at training to make any difference?

_What the heck am I supposed to do?_

~ oOo ~

Left with inconclusive thoughts, Harry noticed a while later that the sun had begun to dip under the horizon. Curfew would be active any minute now.

Harry stood up and said a quick goodbye to Hedwig, making his way down the owlry stairs as journeyed to the Fat Lady, managing to avoid a patrolling Professor McGonagal. He took each step with a lack of energy, watching as the stairway's red carpet was pressed down by his shoes.

It was only by luck that Harry passed an unused classroom and heard a whisper behind the door. Harry paused in curiosity. Who else was out late before curfew?

Harry pressed his ear to the wall next to the door, spying through the small sliver of light made by the slightly open door.

"What should we do?" a voice Harry recognized as Goyle asked.

The other Malfoy henchman, Crabbe, grunted in anger, raising his voice. "Your dad's in jail, Weasely's dad was almost killed, Sirius Black _was_ killed –– everything's a disaster!"

"And we've been ordered by our parents to start spying," Goyle added.

There was a short pause. Then, someone very familiar to Harry began to speak.

"We've no choice," Draco Malfoy said. "If the Dark Lord commands us to spy, we have to obey. He'll kill our parents if he has the slightest suspicion that we are not totally loyal to him."

"So do as the Dark Lord says?" Goyle asked with a disbelieving voice. "Our parents tried that last time, and look where it got them! I have nothing to gain by the persecution of the majority population –– I don't like muggles and muggleborns, but that doesn't mean I want to murder them all in their beds!"

"Well, what else do we do?!" Malfoy yelled at them, eyes wild through what Harry could see in the crack in the door. "Do you have an idea, because I'd really like to hear it!"

Crabbe softly said, "Hush, Draco. Somebody'll hear. He's right, though, Greg. We disobey the Dark Lord, and we're all dead."

There was another silence, this one long and heavy. Again, it was broken by Malfoy.

"Do as the Dark Lord says, Greg, Vincent," Draco said resignedly. "Keep in contact whenever possible, share as much information as possible with each other and watch each other's backs. We have to wait for an opportunity either way –– we're Slytherins; that's how we handle things. If we get into his good favor somehow, we'll probably be all right for a while."

Draco marched toward the door, Harry backing away with a panicked gasp. Harry looked around himself wildly, before sliding into a niche behind a suit of armor.

Draco flung open the thick wooden door and walked quickly down the stairs toward the Slytherin dungeons. His fists clenched and unclenched as he walked, before his figure was taken away by the moving staircase.

Harry gave a quiet sigh of relief –– _that had been much too close_ –– before peering back toward the empty classroom. Goyle and Crabbe had remained, talking with each other and turned away from the open doorway. Harry seized the moment and slipped from behind the suit of armor, silently sprinting to another stair landing and running towards the Fat Lady.

Harry quickly shouted the password and tumbled inside the Gryfindor common room. There were only a few people left who were still awake, scattered through the room which was dark except for the roaring fire. Harry sat down on the floor in front of the fire and folded his hands under his chin in thought.

So, Draco Malfoy wasn't quite as loyal to Voldemort's ideals as he seemed. Still, Draco was willing to obey Voldemort and that made him dangerous. Though, perhaps Harry somehow convince Draco to join the Order of the Phoenix, and then from there . . . No, that was never going to happen. Draco would never allow Harry to recruit him for anything –– not even Malfoy Appreciation Day –– and Draco most certainly didn't trust the Headmaster to have his best interests at heart, since Draco hypothetically wouldn't help himself if Draco had been in Dumbledore's position.

Though, to be honest, Harry's confidence in the Headmaster had taken quite the hit this past year too.

Harry wanted to trust the Headmaster, but he still hurt from being so thoroughly ignored this past year, when he had needed the Headmaster's support the most. Sometimes it surprised him, just how much it hurt.

* * *

**Next Chapter**: Lord Black

* * *

Please Review; Constructive Criticism Welcomed!


	2. Lord Black

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Harry Potter._ The idea _Department 13_ is all mine, though.

**Published**: Tuesday, June 25, 2013

**Notes**: Not much to say that I haven't already said. Please enjoy, and remember to review. Any suggestions for a secret wizarding government agency would be appreciated. Well, until July 9th! ^_^

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Lord Black

* * *

As Harry flooed to the Ministry, he wondered if perhaps he should have asked Mr. Weasely to accompany him again. Harry shook his head –– Mr. Weasely was probably furious with him for leading two of his children into the clutches of Death Eaters. It was better to do this alone and get it over with.

Harry shot out of the floo and nearly landed on the floor, only just barely landing on his feet. He quickly moved to the side, entertaining gruesome visions of someone else flying through the floo and squishing them both to mush.

The fifth year spied an official looking desk and briskly walked over to it. The old man behind the desk stared at him underneath his bushy eyebrows as Harry explained himself.

"I'm here to meet someone in the Legal Affairs department," Harry said. "Can you tell me how to get to it?"

The man's bushy eyebrows quirked in curiosity. He pointed a long, gnarled finger towards a large hallway. "Go down the hallway, take a left, and then take the elevator to the second floor."

"Thank you," Harry said, looking in that direction.

"Wait a minute," the old man said. "You'll be getting into trouble if you don't have a guest badge."

The old man shifted on his chair and turned to a device that looked rather like a typewriter. He tapped a few keys, pulled a lever, and with a cheerful _ding!_ a golden badge with VISITOR and a large number popped out, hanging from a black loop.

"Here you go," the man said, handing it over. "Don't forget––that'll get you into public areas, but you'll need someone else to get you into any restricted ones."

"Thanks a lot," Harry said, thinking what could have happened. The Ministry was trying to get back into his good graces, but breaking their rules would still have caused him more trouble than it was worth.

Harry lifted the necklace badge over his head and settled it the right way around, before heading off in the direction previously indicated.

It being so early, there was barely anyone there. Harry was rather thankful for that, not feeling up to running away from the awkward questions that seemed to follow him everywhere. At that thought, Harry reached up a hand and flattened his fringe over his scar, nervously looking around.

There were only one or two other people in the hallway, but they still looked half asleep.

Harry saw a large hallway to the left and turned down it, seeing the elevator at the end. Just as a man walked out of the elevator, Harry walked in, pressing the button for the second floor.

"Department of Legal Affairs," a female voice intoned cheerfully as the doors opened.

Harry exited the elevator and looked around. He could see two hallways heading off in opposite directions, but Harry had no clue which direction to go in. He walked toward the receptionist desk directly opposite the elevator scanning small groups of armchairs and couches that lay around the rectangular room and relieved to see that he was still mostly alone.

The receptionist, a chubby woman of around thirty with a bit too much makeup, looked up and smiled at him. "Hello, dear," she said. "What do you need?"

"Um, I'm here to see Miss Curlique about my guardianship," Harry replied.

"Oh," the receptionist said. Then she gasped, "OH! You must be _Harry Potter_!"

Harry's face scrunched up a bit in displeasure. "Yeah," he said, in a tone that was a bit annoyed.

The receptionist looked at him with unnervingly worshipful eyes. Then she blinked and looked down at her organizational book, flipping to a map. "Ah, Miss Julia Curlique is in room 239, down that hallway," she said pointing to the right. Then she beamed and chirped, "Have a nice day, Mister Potter!"

"I'll . . . do that," Harry said weakly, waving as he walked away.

_What was it with these people? Just a couple of weeks ago, I would have been tossed out on my ear because of what the Daily Prophet had everyone believing._

Harry scanned the door plaques until he reached 239, pausing for a moment. Then he gathered up his courage, squared his shoulders, and knocked briskly on the door.

The door was opened a second later by a pretty woman with caramel-colored skin, dark blue eyes, and long silver hair. She wore a simple set of black robes, with a metal necklace hanging from her neck that looked sort of like an oval made by a pair of two single quotes.

"Oh, you must be Harry Potter," she said with a bit of surprise. She opened the door wider. "I was expecting you later in the day, but please do come in."

"Thanks," Harry said. He walked into the room and looked around.

The office was a square, with two windows against the back wall looking down onto a muggle street –– which was impossible, considering that the Ministry was underground, so he supposed that the windows were fake. Still, the windows let in a lot of bright golden light.

The space in between the windows was taken by a large painted picture of a tropical beach. Facing the door was a large wooden desk with a comfortable-looking large chair behind it. There were three armchairs and a small table scattered around the room, and a warm blue rug covered most of the tile floor. There were two bookcases and a few diplomas on the walls, but the room was otherwise bare.

It was rather simple, but Harry liked it.

"Sit down," Julia Curlique said, waving her hand towards a pair of armchairs in the corner of the room near a window. As Harry sat, she went to her desk and flipped through some papers, before taking a handful and placing it on the small table between them as she sat down.

"You probably don't know much of the legal work done here in the Ministry in regards to your guardianship, do you?" she asked.

Harry was wary to admit his lack of knowledge, but he had the weirdest urge to trust this person. "Not really," he said.

"Okay, then," she said. "To put it in rather simple terms, your parents had arranged for Mister Black to take guardianship of you in case of their deaths.

"You already know that he was sent to Azkaban. When I was assigned to your guardianship matters two weeks ago, I was surprised when I found that he hadn't had a trial. Still, he could not legally take guardianship of you in the eyes of the Ministry so long as he was a wanted criminal.

"That's why the Ministry had to find another guardian for you. In the end, Mister Dumbledore took over your guardianship process with his authority as Head Mugwump and left you with your aunt, her husband, and her son. The––" she scanned a document for a moment, "––Dursley family, I believe?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"Well, they were only your substitute guardians, and in the Wizarding World your original guardian still had a few rights. He used one of them," she said.

"What did he do?" Harry asked, burning with curiosity. What had Sirius still been able to accomplish while on the run?

"Though he was a criminal, in the Wizarding World your godfather still had the right to name you as his heir for all his worldly possessions and authority. You are, as of his death, the heir of the Black estate with a seat on the Wizengamot," she said gently. "Unless you die, you will receive the Black lordship and fortune as soon as you are considered an adult in the eyes of the Ministry. In many places, however, you are considered the Lord Black even though the Ministry has not yet recognized you as such."

"No way," Harry breathed. "That can't be possible –– I didn't even know that Sirius had a lordship!"

Julia Curlique's face showed sympathy. "I know it's a lot to take in," she said, "but your godfather had a lot of wealth, even though the Ministry blocked him from it after his arrest. Now that he's dead, it's all yours."

"When I'm an adult," Harry said.

"That's what I'm here to talk to you about," Julia Curlique said. She shifted in her chair and dug through the paperwork pile in front of her. She pulled one form out and presented it to Harry, who scanned it.

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, eyes scanning the paper. "An _emancipation_ form?"

"At this point," Julia Curlique said with a professional face, "you have two choices. A) You return to the Dursley family and wait until your seventeenth birthday to inherit your godfather's estate. Or B) You claim your Wizarding rights as the Black heir and emancipate yourself."

"You can _do_ that?" Harry asked, still taken aback.

"Yes," Julia said, crossing her legs and propping her chin on her hand. "If a Wizarding Lord dies and his chosen heir is underage, the heir may claim their rights and emancipate themselves to become the Lord immediately so as not to leave the position empty."

Harry was silent for a few minutes. His mind buzzed. "If I decide to emancipate myself . . ." he ventured. "Will the Ministry try to stop me and what chance to they have of succeeding if they _do_ decide I'm better as a minor?"

"They don't," Julia said. "The Ministry was created hundreds of years after the Ancient Houses began their government of the Wizarding World. The Ministry and the Wizengamot are relatively new forms of government. The Ancient Houses –– like the Blacks –– had already been ruling for hundreds of years and the Ministry had to make many concessions after it was first created to gain the Ancient Houses' support. Hence, the House of Lords on the Wizengamot."

"What will I be able to do once I'm Black Lord?" Harry asked. He wanted to accept what Sirius had given him, but he wanted to do what was best for the Wizarding World and the war, not just what Harry wished to do.

Julia pulled out a small book from her pocket and offered it to him. Harry studied the battered cover for a moment and flipped through it, listening to the woman explain.

"This book should tell you almost everything you need to know about Wizarding Lords, but to summarize you will be able to vote on the Wizengamot, have a small measure of authority in the Ministry such as being able to demand meetings with any Department Head or the Minister himself, and you will be responsible for any magical people or places that you decide to place under your protection."

"What does that mean? My protection?" Harry asked. Was there some way that he could use the Black lordship to help his friends?

"Well, for example, there is an expensive restaurant owned by a good friend of Lucius Malfoy. Lord Malfoy supports it and it is protected under his lordship. If anyone attacks the restaurant, Lord Malfoy has the right to challenge them to a duel without the interference of the Ministry, no matter who they are. You can do that with any person, place, or thing, as long as all sentient beings involved agree and accept your protection."

That could come in handy. That could come in _very_ handy. Voldemort and his Death Eaters wouldn't be able to hide behind the Ministry any more.

Harry paused. He should probably talk to Dumbledore and Hermione –– and Ron, too –– but then he shook his head. He had been trying to distance himself from his two best friends after the Department of Mysteries disaster, and Harry just didn't trust Dumbledore anymore. He felt betrayed by some of them, and worried for all of them. Perhaps it was time to make his own decisions.

"Where do I sign?" Harry asked.

~ oOo ~

After filing all the neccessary documents and sending them off to other departments at the Ministry, Harry sat back into his armchair with a contented sigh.

Julia Curlique laughed. "Glad that's over with, huh?" she asked.

"You have no idea," Harry replied with a smile. They had been filling in documents for hours, and it was already almost lunchtime. He had skipped breakfast, and now he was starving.

The only thing more powerful than his current hunger was his bone tiredness. Without moving throughout Hogwarts, lost in thought, it was becoming apparent that he wanted to take a nap on the nearest horizontal surface. He would have to return to Hogwarts before dinner or he would fall asleep in the Ministry, which was just unpleasant any way you thought about it.

"Now that you are legally an adult –– well, after your paperwork is verified and blah blah blah –– I can now legally talk to you about my department," Julia Curlique said with a childish grin.

"The Department of Legal Affairs?" Harry asked with confusion.

"No," Julia said. "I am being completely, deadly serious when I say that 'Julia Curlique' is just a cover. I work for a different department of the Ministry."

"Are you an Auror in disguise or something?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. He hoped that Julia Curlique wasn't Tonks in disguise or something.

"Sort of," Julia said, amused. "But no."

Harry frowned. "Then what department to do work for and what are you telling me?" he asked.

"Publicly, the Ministry has twelve departments," Julia said. "But there's a few mysteries in the Ministry, and my department is one of them. My superiors agreed that I approach you if you decide to emancipate yourself, and I'm to attempt to recruit you."

"No way," Harry said flatly. "What you've done for me is nice, but I'm not working for the Ministry."

"Because they screwed everything up related to you?" Julia asked. "If I were in your place, I would avoid the Ministry too. Still, give me a chance. I'm not going to force you into anything –– I just want you to listen and watch."

Harry wanted to stand, walk to the door, and slam it behind him. Yet another Ministry employee that wanted to take advantage of him. Perhaps it really was possible that Arthur Weasley was the only decent official in the entire Ministry.

"Give it a chance," the woman begged. "Please. There's so much good you could do." Her dark blue eyes gazed pleadingly at Harry as he stood up and began to walk away.

Harry stood in front of the door for a moment before turning around. "Sure," he said. "Just don't try anything."

The woman not actually named Julia Curlique smiled brightly, face morphing from sad to happy in the space of a heartbeat.

"Okay!" she said. "Let's start in the Department of Mysteries! By the way, call me Agent Yeti."

Yeti opened the door and escorted Harry down the hallway back toward the receptionist.

"Sarah," Agent Yeti said, "please cancel any meetings I have today. I have some minor business with Mister Potter and I'll be out the rest of the day."

Sarah the receptionist nodded. "Whatever you say, Miss Curlique."

"C'mon," Yeti said, jerking her head toward the elevator.

* * *

**Next Chapter**: The Department Hidden in the DoM

* * *

Please Review; Constructive Criticism Welcomed!


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